


Heavenly Travelers

by Pigeonsplotinsecrecy



Series: MacGyver May [3]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abuse, Cults, Dark, Flashbacks, Gen, Human Trafficking, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Team as Family, Trauma, Violence, alternate universe- cults, lots of triggers, macgyver may, spoilers for bambi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy/pseuds/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy
Summary: Mac doesn’t talk about his childhood, and prefers to keep the memories stored in a locked vault in his brain, but then, when a mission brings Mac’s past to his present, he has to face parts of himself he thought he’d left in the past, the worst part being his very own father.Or the AU where Mac grew up in a cult and the leader was none other than James MacGyver.





	1. The Unholy Home

Mac didn’t like to talk about his childhood. As far as he was concerned, what happened in the cult stayed in the cult. He pushed the memories of his earliest years under a heap of better ones he was creating with his family at the Phoenix Foundation. There was no need to dwell on the past, he told himself. Too bad the memories always creeped into his mind no matter how much he tried to ignore them.

It didn’t take much for little snippets of memories to flood Mac’s brain. Seemingly random things could thrust him back into the worst moments of his life. Nightmares and flashbacks were inevitable parts of his life, but he had learned to deal with them. He figured he should talk about them to someone someday, but he’d never been able to find the words. Talking about it would probably help him, but he had never told anyone about what had happened to him while he was in Heavenly Travelers. He’d only ever referenced it to his grandfather.

Mac didn’t want pity. He didn’t care to see the way people would look at him if he admitted all the messed-up things Oversight had put him through. Just the word oversight made panic surge through his body.

_Mac, be a good boy and do what you’re told. I’ll have to punish you if you don’t._

As far as he knew, no one currently in his life had any idea of how he’d been brought up. He’d let Bozer assume that he had spent his whole childhood with his grandpa, and, in some ways, that was true. Cults didn’t allow proper childhoods. Any childish things he had done, had been done after he had escaped.

Even people like Matty, who seemed to know everything, didn’t know the darkest part of Mac’s life. Honestly, it surprised him that they hadn’t, but it was a relief. Part of him wanted them to know, but mostly, he wanted to pretend that no problem existed.

_You need to listen to me, son. Be good. Your mom is dead because she didn’t corporate. God made me sacrifice her, and I don’t want to sacrifice you as well._

Mac focused his mind, preparing for Matty’s briefing. He didn’t have time to let his mind linger in the past. There were people he needed to save.

_I’ll lead you towards salvation._

“Good morning team. We have a different kind of case today.”

“Oh great,” Riley said, gulping coffee, “A new kind of bad guy just what we need.”

Jack agreed, “Those bastards never give us a break.”

“The Heavenly Travelers,” Matty said and Mac froze, “are a highly secretive religious organization.” A cult, Mac’s cult. “We still only know the leader by the name Oversight.” Goosebumps spread on Mac’s body like wildfire as he broke out in a cold sweat.

_It isn’t going to hurt, son. It’s an honor for your body to be used for another person’s pleasure. You’re giving a precious gift to others. It’s perfectly normal to give all of yourself to someone else. Don’t be sacred. My friends will take care of you. You’re just doing what needs to be done. This is what’s best for everyone._

“The group has been trafficking American citizens, most concerningly children as young as six. Members have been forced into labor as well as prostitution.” Mac didn’t like to think about all the children who had been harmed because he was too much of a coward to say anything about what the cult did.

_You’re going to belong to Mr. Murphy for a little while now. Do what he says. Don’t ask too many questions. Remember, you are to give your elders whatever they want. Make him happy or you will pay. Don’t be a coward._

“I want Mac and Jack to go undercover in the cult and get the necessary information to bring the organization down.”

_You can run, Angus, but I know you’ll come crawling back. When you realize the error of your ways, I’ll take your sorry ass back. You are my son, after all. Learn obedience and you will be spared. Until then, you are to have no communication with any of those you’re leaving behind. Those who talk to ingrates like you will be punished, and you of all people know how painful my punishments can be. Never forget that being good means suffering._

“I can’t go there,” Mac blurted out, staring at the paperclip he was twisting in his hand. Panic was building in his chest at the thought of going back to the main compound.

 _You coward. You’re selfish, Mac. You need to think of the common good._  

If he went back, he would be recognized. His dad would welcome him back with punishment, and then pawn him off as a toy to one of James’ friends.

_You belong to God, and because I am the prophet, that means you belong to me. Listen to me and you will have salvation. Disobey and you will be damned. You’ll burn in the fiery pits of hell like your mother. If I tell you to do something, you need to do it._

“Why not?” Matty asked, her eyes dissecting him as she tried to figure out why he was acting so odd. When people were in trouble, Mac always thought it was a good idea to help them (even when it wasn’t a good idea). _Being good means suffering._

“It’s too dangerous.” But Mac wasn’t afraid of danger. He was just afraid. He’d rather go to the top of the world’s tallest building than to have to face his father again.

_Kneel on the floor and eat with the dogs. That should teach you humility._

“Kid, dangerous situations are kind of our specialty.” James MacGyver was a completely different kind of dangerous, the kind Mac wasn’t even sure his team could handle. He was manipulative and a smooth talker, making hundreds of people believe in his message, convincing them to do unspeakable things.

“I’m not afraid of the situation,” he said squeezing his hands together so they would stop quivering. “The problem is that I’ll be recognized.”

_Your body doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to your elders, your prophet, and your God. You are just a traveler. You go where the church tells you because that is your calling. Never stray, son. Us travelers must remain together or humanity will be doomed to the fiery hell are sins have created._

That piqued Matty’s interest. “You know someone in the group, Mac? That could get us access.”

He supposed there was no point in trying to hide the truth. “It’s my dad. He’s a member.”

_You don’t want to do what I say, boy? I’ll punish you until you’re black and blue. You’ll learn that my word comes before all other mortals. I am the prophet. I will lead us all to the promise land and insolent sinners must be punished so that we all can be free._

“Is that where he went after he left?” Bozer wondered aloud. Mac had told Bozer that his dad had left when Mac was fifteen, just before Bozer and Mac met. In all the years they had been friends, he’d kept his past a secret. Even Gramps died knowing very little of what happened before Mac arrived at his doorstep.

“My dad never left me, Boze.” The whole room looked at Mac with puzzled faces. “I left him. Long story short, I grew up as a member of Heavenly Travelers, and when I was fifteen, I ran away, and eventually I found my grandfather, who took me in.” Too bad it had taken months to find his grandpa. Mac didn’t like to think about the months he had spent living on the streets, making the best of what he could get from dumpsters, begging, and whatever odd jobs people would give a street kid.

“You grew up in that hell hole?”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

_I’ll make you know suffering so that you can know redemption, and I’ll do it at afternoon service so that all who follow me can see that not even my own son is immune to the morals we uphold here._

“Mac, we’re not going to make you go back there, obviously, but I’m going to take those bastards down and find your dud of a father.” Jack’s tone was gentle, but Mac could tell he was seething.

“Yeah, Mac,” Riley said. “Why don’t you just sit this one out. I can go in with Jack. We’ll take care of everything.”

 _Don’t be selfish. Being good means suffering. I know you’ll come crawling back._ Mac shook his head and spoke despite his better judgment, “No! You can’t! These people aren’t to be messed around with. You don’t know what they can do. I should be the one to go in.”

Matty gave him a sympathetic look, which was too close to pity for Mac’s liking. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m letting you go back there alone. Those people are monsters, and they might not even let you come back. What happens then? Cults aren’t exactly warm and fuzzy to ex members.”

_You’re always welcome back if you follow the rules._

“Jack, I know that they’ll take me back.”

“Mac, you can’t possibly know that.”

“I do. I know that because my dad is Oversight.” A dark tone filled his voice, “He won’t make it easy for me, but he’ll let me come back.”

Mac watched as his friends’ eyes widened. Matty spoke, “You don’t have to do this, Mac. You shouldn’t have to go back there ever again.”

_You’ll be back._

“I know that, but I need to be part of this. Going back terrifies me, but I want to be the one who destroys everything my dad spent his life building, and I want to make sure he can never hurt children again.” The “the way he hurt me” remained unsaid. “I can’t just do nothing.”

_You’re nothing without me. Disrespect me again, and I’ll send you away again. Lots of my disciples think you are very pretty. You’re in high demand, Angus. I’m sure I can find someone to keep you in line._

Jack squeezed his shoulder, “We’re going to take that damn cult down, and then I’m going to kick your dad’s ass while I’m at it. That bastard doesn’t get to mess with my kid.”

_You’re useless, Mac. There’s no way you can be my kid._

Mac gave a small smile, “I’m not going to let him hurt me anymore. He shouldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone.”

_You don’t know the first thing about hurt. Just you wait, Mac. I’ve been too gentle with you. But I can’t keep coddling you. When you do wrong, a time out just isn’t enough._

“You’re going to be okay, Mac.” And maybe he would. He had to face the terror he felt if he wanted to make it better. He needed to stop being afraid of a man he hadn’t seen in over a decade. James MacGyver was not his father. James MacGyver was a predator and a con, who had treated Mac like he was nothing more than a toy, but Mac was more than that.

_You’re nothing without me. You need to accept the pain so you can be saved, Mac. Stop resisting and do what I say._

 Mac knew it wouldn’t be that easy to let go of the past, but he didn’t want the Heavenly Travelers to be his dirty secret anymore. He didn’t want to feel so _unclean._ He wanted his trauma to stop being so traumatic. He wasn’t sure that would ever happen, even if they did take down the cult. He feared that the anxiety and torment his past caused would never go away, but he didn’t want it to control him like that. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but Mac wanted to let go of those feelings that had only held him back, keeping him from traveling anywhere beyond the gates of a false heaven.


	2. Take Me to Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac and Jack arrive at the cult.

They rolled up to gray stone building, and Mac’s stomach dropped at the sight of the dull fortress otherwise known as the church. They stepped out of the car and stared at the daunting building for a few moments. Mac tried not to let memories flash in his brain.

“Are you okay. You look a little green.”

“It’s just been a long time,” Mac said. “But I’m not a helpless kid anymore. I’ll be fine,” and Jack wasn’t sure if Mac was saying that for Jack’s or his own benefit.

“Need a few moments?”

Mac shook his head. “No, I’m ready. Just remember that if things happen to me that you don’t like, you can’t try to stop them.”

“Mac—”

“No, Jack. This will only work if you have faith that I can take it. We’ve _both_ been through torture before, and this is no different.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, pal.”

“Come on,” Mac pulled Jack’s arm. “It’s time to face the music.”

“There’s singing?”

Mac rolled his eyes. “Stop trying to delay the inevitable.” Though, Mac’s heart was already racing just looking at the place. It seemed so quiet from the outside. He didn’t know what he expected. The sound of children screaming? Cries? Yells? No, of course not. Those things were all hidden away, only to be heard by the walls because the ears were all deaf.

Mac led Jack through the large double doors of the church complex, walking automatically to his dad’s office, where he generally was during the day when he wasn’t striking the fear of God into his followers. He knocked on the door, not sure what the formality was for returning to your old cult.

Jack stood patiently behind him. “Did you tell him you were coming?”

Mac shook his head. “Maybe I should have.”

Mac felt a tap on his shoulder, hearing a woman say, “Oversight isn’t in there.” He snapped his head around, startling easily. Being back in this place was already starting to get to him.  There was a tension in his shoulders he couldn’t release. He was going to take down this cult if it was the last thing he did because no one should feel like this. No one should feel that constant terror of edging between peace and punishment.

“May? Is that you?” He relaxed a little at the familiar face.

“It’s been a while,” she said casually. “I thought you were a Judas.”

“I was, but I’m back now,” he gave a small smile, pointing to Jack, “and I brought a friend as an offering.”

She didn’t respond to the joke. “Here, let me take you to Oversight. He’ll be glad you’ve come home,” she said, walking them down the hallway and into the basement, where they had group gatherings and “sessions.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“He predicted you’d return.” May swung open a door, revealing a face that made Mac’s heart plummet.

“Angus,” a dark voice said.

“Oversight.”

“Have you come home, prodigal son?”

“I’ve come home, sir, and I’ve brought a friend.”

Oversight grabbed Mac’s face, squeezing his cheeks together. “Why should I let you return, you ungrateful boy?” He shoved Mac back.

“I want to repent.”

“Do you mean it? Are you willing to go through trials?” Mac had barely been able to survive them the last time, but he was stronger now, and Jack would be by his side the whole time. “And you,” James turned to Jack, “What do you have to offer?”

Before Jack could speak, Mac cut in, “He’s a true believer. He’s the reason I came back. He convinced me it was the right thing to do. He told me I never should have abandoned the people who raised me.”

“Is that true.”

“Yes, sir, I mean Oversight, that’s true,” Jack said as obediently as he could muster, but Mac could tell he was struggling to keep the derision from his voice.

“It better be because I don’t want any wishy-washy followers. You better be in it completely this time, Mac. I don’t have the energy to keep you in line like I used to.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll be good.”

“It’s not in your blood to be good. Your whore of a mother died as a sacrilegious bitch, and it was all your fault. She wasn’t corrupt until you came along. Sometimes, I wonder if you’re the antichrist.”

“Hey,” Jack cut in, “I don’t think—”

“Jack, it’s fine.” Mac wasn’t going to let Jack blow their cover this quickly. “He’s right. He’s the prophet, and I’m just the prophet’s troublemaking son.”

James patted Mac's back harshly, sending a chill down Mac's spine as he tried not to remember the past. “Prepare for your punishment, son.”


	3. Daddy Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac suffers at the hands of his father.

“I’m going to kill that bastard.”

_Someday, I will kill you if you can not be a soldier of God. We cannot have unholy travelers. Only the redeemed can reach paradise._

“Jack it’s not a big deal. I warned you this would happen.”

_You don’t matter. You are nothing. Worse than nothing. You are a belonging._

“You warned me he’d punish you. I didn’t think he’d beat and humiliate you. I was thinking more like making you pray a lot.”

_There’s more where that came from. Prepare yourself, kid._

“He’s a cult leader. He doesn’t like tame punishments. Actually, that _was_ tame for him.”

_You don’t deserve better. Repent, sinner. Repent._

“That doesn’t make us feel better, Mac,” Matty spoke into their earpieces.

“I swear, Matty, I’m going to kill him,” Jack said, rearing up for a fight.

“I know, Jack, I’m with you, but we can’t off him yet.”

“No one’s killing Oversight,” Mac said in a pained voice. He hated his dad, but he had mixed feelings about the man being dead. Being in prison would be punishment enough.

_It pays to be loyal._

Jack shook his head, fists clenching. “I can’t promise you that.” He held a reddening rag to the oozing slashes on Mac’s back, trying to wipe off the crimson streaks as gently as he could with the least amount of pain to Mac, who, as usual, handled pain better than a birthday party. “We need to get you out of here right now.” Jack, appalled at the welcome home beating Mac had received in front of the congregation, didn’t want to put up with any more of James’ misbehavior. He wanted to beat up the guy, have him arrested, and be on with it.

_Son, you will be an example to the congregation that you may leave the Heavenly Travelers, but you must be purified when you come back. The sin of the outside world must be punished. I must cleanse your soul so my prodigal son can finally return, and we can rejoice. To know joy, you must know pain._

The flagellation had been used to make an example out of Mac, but moreover, it was a way of James reasserting dominance over his son. The pain had been especially poignant after years away, but he’d had worse beatings.

Mac had forced himself not to cry, knowing that tears would only cause James to be harsher.

_Fearful ears show a lack of faith. Believe and you will be spared some of the pain of being a sinner. Kneel, listen, repent, and you will cry tears of joy._

He could handle the whip; it was a familiar stinging on his back, one that had alleviated his guilt in a way he hated to admit. When he escaped, he’d turned to self-harm, burning his skin with a lighter he stole from his dad whenever that feeling of being bad returned. When his grandfather caught him, he’d taken the lighter away, and sent Mac to a therapist who he had refused to speak to.

_Never tell to outsiders what is church buisness._

 “We have to stay,” Mac insisted. He wasn’t _that_ hurt.

 _Don’t be a baby,_ James had said when stray tears had dripped from Mac’s eyes, _Pick yourself up and thank me for cleansing you of sin. Kneel and praise the Lord that he has let you return._

Thanking Oversight after his punishment had been the worst part. It had made Mac’s head swirl with the same feelings he’d had as a child.

A beating, in a bizarre, twisted way, was safe. Physical abuse was predictable, and the beatings were done with rhythm. James’ more creative punishments were what had truly terrified Mac, enough that he’d attempted a second escape, even after he’d been through the worst punishment after the failed first try. James had made sure he never forgot what happened to him. When he’d tried running away at thirteen, he’d gotten the worst punishment he’d ever had.

_You want to leave so bad? I’ll send you to my friend who will make you wish you were here with me. You’ve been to bad places before, but this one will destroy your will to disobey. It will teach you to listen and to believe. It will make you a good follower. My friend will teach you to listen. He’ll show you that your body is not yours. It is the church’s, and we can use it however we please._

“What do you mean we don’t have enough to bring them down? Look at you, Mac. You’re beaten bloody,” Jack whisper screamed. They were hiding out in a shed to catch up with Matty and couldn’t be too loud. Mac assured them that the old shed would be as secure location as they could get at the compound, but they couldn’t be too careful. It wasn’t the best place for tending to Mac’s injuries, but Jack and Mac had been through worse.

_Blood is the release of the suffering you have caused with the evil that lives within you demon child._

“I hate to say it, but Blondie is right. With cults, stories of abuse are enough to bring an investigation, but if that happens, we risk losing our grounding. The group could close in on themselves even more, and it will only ensure that we can’t get back into the compound. We can’t give up this chance, Jack, not if Mac still feels up to the mission.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Mac insisted, “We just need to find my dad’s records. I know he keeps a list of sales, and with that we can take this whole shitty group down.”

_You’re in high demand, Mac. Some elders are so impressed, they beg me for a long-term arrangement. Maybe you aren’t so bad, after all. Maybe you’re worth something. Daddy’s little toy._

“What kind of sales are you talking Mac?” Jack questioned, already suspecting the answer.

_Children are the community’s property, meaning they are property of God and the church. You belong to me, the human representation of your God. You will do as a say. Until you prove yourself as a true believer, you are my property._

Mac looked a little green as he spoke, “Children, mostly. Some adults. He has private auctions where he and his inner circle can trade or buy children to be used for varying purposes ranging from domestic work to prostitution. We need to find his receipts and records from these auctions. If we don’t, we can’t be sure that some of the victims may not fall between the cracks. We need to make sure they all get safely out. These kids deserve a better life.” _Than I had,_ he didn’t add.

_You’ll never get out. No matter where you go, you can never escape what I made you, your fate. You can not escape your Lord. You cannot run from righteousness, Angus. It will always chase you._

Jack ran a careful hand through Mac’s hair, “Come on, Matty. Look at him, he’s been beaten. This bastard beats these people for kicks—little kids, even. We need to save them. Now.”

“And we’ll do that, but we need to be patient with this case, even though I know you’re both gunning to take Oversight down. He’s slippery. Groups like ours have tried to take him down, and we can’t do anything until we’re sure we have him. I have Riley trying to look into his computer activity, but he—”

_Mac, never keep your secrets where other people can get access. I keep it in my office, locked or in my mind._

“Is old school,” Mac finished. “He keeps all the important stuff in handwritten files or in his head. Only he, his closest friends, and his secretary have access to those things.”

_Someday, if you learn to be good, you can have the knowledge I possess too._

Jack groaned in frustration. “How does no one know about this damn church? Big secrets like these are hard to keep.”

Mac stifled a moan as he moved the way, pulling is sore skin taut. “Oversight is very careful with who he lets into his inner circle, and he knows how to play with people’s minds. He targets the vulnerable and the pliant. I should have told someone what happens here when I got out, but I wanted to pretend it never happened, and look at where we are now.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Matty reminded in her no-nonsense voice.

_You’re my misery, and all the sadness you feel is your own fault. Someday, I hope you have a child as obstinate as you. Then you will see the deepest pain a human can have._

“He killed my mom.”

_Her death was her own stupid fault. That woman gave birth to you. I should have known a slut would have an idiot son._

“In cold blood?” Jack asked.

_Say goodbye._

“A group of women beat her to death with stones,” Mac said, tears in her eyes. He pushed them back. “And I watched, but I never said anything. Not even when I got out. Oversight convinced the congregation that she was a sinner, and made her friends kill her publicly as a show of loyalty. I didn’t save her.”

_That will happen to you too if you don’t prove yourself._

“Mac,” Jack said, voice strained. “You were five years old when she died, weren’t you?”

_You’re old enough to know better._

“But I was old enough to know better.” Mac looked down at his shoes ashamed.

“No,” Matty said forcefully with a look that could kill. “You weren’t even old enough to understand death. You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing.”

“It feels like I did.”

“That’s the way he wanted you to feel,” Matty said in a voice that sounded clear, logical, a tether to the ground from the floaty world of abuse and cults. “He wanted you to think you deserved what he did to you because then he could keep you under his control.”

Jack nodded in agreement, rubbing a hand on Mac’s arm. “You have to forgive yourself, man, not because you’ve done anything wrong, but because a believed wrong comes with just as much guilt. You have to forgive yourself for all of the things out of your control.”

Mac remembered the feeling of a hot lighter against his skin, the smell of singed flesh, the burning that dulled into a faint ache, and the late-night itchiness of the wound just before it healed. He remembered all the things he’d done to his body in the name of repenting. He remembered the brand Oversight had put into his skin that had left that same sensation, the mark that was still on his thigh, regardless of how hard he tried to hide it. He remembered that all and knew that he wasn’t as over those feelings as he thought. He wasn’t okay. He still craved the burn, the sting, the pain he thought he deserved. He went on dangerous missions because he thought putting his life on the line was the only way to prove to himself that he was worthy of being alive.

He couldn’t tell Jack or Matty any of that, though. If he did, they’d pull him out of the mission, and worry about him, so he just said, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it, wonderful readers. Feel free to leave feedback. Thanks for reading!! xxx


	4. Leila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac goes to church and witnesses the humiliation of a young girl.

Mac had been keeping his head down for the past week, trying to recover from his injuries and gain his father’s trust, which would not be an easy task. James was secretive, always had been, and Mac needed to find a way to crack through his father’s heavily guarded inner circle, but James had been looking at Mac with suspicion since he had gotten back, and he was even more distrustful of Jack. Whatever it took, Mac had to make himself seem like the son James had always wanted, the heir to the cult leader throne.

Beyond wanting to get on his father’s good side, pulled opened and raw from normal, everyday movement, the wounds on Mac’s back were still aching, and the last thing he needed was another punishment. He knew his father wouldn’t go easy on him next time.

_I’m too soft on you. You need to learn to listen to your father, boy. I’ll show you that no follower of mine can get away with insubordination. I’ll send you to Helman if you don’t behave. His sessions will make you see the light._

It was Sunday morning, and Mac and Jack were sitting in church, pushing themselves through the sermon, even though they both wanted to punch the smug look off James’ face. James was especially animated on this particular day, riling up the crowd by putting on his motivational speaker act. The mass had been pretty tame so far, but Mac knew James was about to switch to harsh disciplinarian soon. Every mass had a portion dedicated to calling out those who had done wrong during the week.

“Followers, we must always choose the way of the lord. Admit your sins.”

Mac knew the words of the next prayer by heart, “We are sinners, traveling together, but in the name of God, we shall heal, so that we can lead humanity away from its evil and toward the goodness of Heaven. Lord, forgive us for our wrongs. Redeem us by hearing our sincere and reverend prayer for mercy. Lead us off our wayward path and bring us home for we do not want to be bad. We, your humble servants, pray to be obedient and to have the wisdom to ask forgiveness when we aren’t. We choose the way of the Lord. Those who do not must punished so that they can be guided by the greater power.”

“Indeed, those who do not, must be punished.” Now was the part of the service where James would bring “sinners” to the front of church and go through a forgiveness ritual.

_Come forward, son. Be with your fellow sinners. Face your trial and repent._

“Sinners, please come forward so you can be purified.” Mac was selfishly relieved that he hadn’t been selected as a sinner this week. His father had been merciful enough to decide that a beating was enough. The “Forgiveness of High Sinners” wasn’t a physically abusive ritual, but it was mentally draining, and humiliating. These people were marked with the distinction of being more sinful than the rest of the congregation, alienated for standing out as extra evil. “Your sins require additional steps for forgiveness. You have dishonored your fellow travelers, and you must be confronted with your evil.” Some people in the congregation looked uncocomfortable, having experienced the awful embarrassment of being scolded and called evil in front of the whole church.

James loved public humiliation. Mac guessed he liked that more than physical torture. Put both together, and James would be giddy.

_You deserve what it coming to you._

It was the congregation’s turn to speak. “We cannot let the evil lurk among us. They must be taught to be good so that they do not corrupt us, the chosen people.”

_You should feel ashamed. For you have done grave wrong._

A group of six pre-selected church members came forward. The oldest looked to be about seventy-five and the youngest was a small girl who couldn’t have been more than eight. Her face was blank, not showing fear or remorse. Her dress was too big and the only emotion she showed was mild annoyance each time her strap slipped down bony shoulders. She’d been through this before.

_Don’t show your weakness on your face, sinner. You must be ready for what is to come. Do not be upset for this is the will of God. You do not deserve to feel afraid after the evil you’ve done._

“Here stand six followers who have drifted from the heavenly path.” He spoke to the group of sinners, “You should feel ashamed for you have done grave wrong.”

“Lord, do not let them stray from the road to salvation,” the congregation responded, Mac included. He had to blend in as much as he hated the words he’d have to say. The words came back to him easily, muscle memory taking over. He hated himself for saying those words, but his father was watching. Every so often, Mac felt Oversight’s eyes on him, making sure Mac was behaving. There was too much at stake to get caught being disobedient.

“They must acknowledge that they are faulted people and be accountable for their own salvation.”

“Because the journey requires pure souls,” came the response, “and we must learn to be steadfast from the wayward, so that we do not become so evil.”

“My son has returned. Like these people, he was a high sinner. These other prodigal children too shall be brought back to our communion.” James instructed the lost travelers to kneel and the rest of the congregation stood. He started with the little girl. “Child, say your name.”

“Leila,” she said squeakily.

“Leila,” he echoed, “tell me why you kneel before this congregation.”

_You are beneath the rest because you have gone off course._

“I was bad,” she said, and Mac’s heart cracked at how defeated she sounded. Oversight wouldn’t like the inflection of her voice. Mac hoped he ignored how scared she sounded.

_Do not cry. You should not be feeling sorry for yourself._

Oversight kept his course without commenting on Leila’s state. “You insulted the name of your heavenly guide. Travelers can not be disrespectful to he who is more holy than them. Apologize to me and apologize to God.”

Leila was quiet, the blank façade cracking as a tear ran down her face. “Apologize!” James said louder, towering over the girl, spittle flying from his mouth. “Do not sob!”

“I’m sorry, Oversight,” she whispered. “I am sorry, God.”

“Louder!”

The congregation joined in with chanting. “Louder! Louder! Your voice must reach the heavens!”

“Let him hear you, sinner child!”

“I’m sorry, Oversight,” the girl tried again, forcing her voice to be louder but still sounding small. “I’m sorry, God.”

“Apologize to the congregation for wasting their time.”

_Sit here, Angus, and write an apology to each and every person in this church. You may not leave until you tell every traveler how sorry you are for being a disobedient sinner._

Leila could not speak anymore. She burst into tears, and Mac had to hold Jack’s arm down, so Jack wouldn’t leap up to get the child out of there. It was awful, but they had to sit back and watch the inhumane act if they wanted to save all the other children and followers who James was hurting.

James shook his head. “She remains disobedient.”

“I’m not,” Leila protested. “I’m sorry.”

“You won’t stop sinning. You have strayed too far to be cured in one day.”

“I’m sorry, Oversight,” she was getting desperate now. “I didn’t mean to be disobedient.”

“Child, you do not seem sincere. You will need to be further purified by a repentance counselor.” James beckoned the man on the alter with him, someone Mac had never met before, to come over to where the people were kneeling. Mac didn’t know exactly who the dark-haired man was, but the church’s repentance counselor was a special kind of evil. He was one of the commanding officers and always cruel. When James didn’t do it himself, the repentance counselor would have “discipline counseling” with wayward travelers. Back when Mac was a kid, Helman had been one sadistic bastard, and Mac couldn’t imagine his successor was any better. “Murdoc,” James said, voice cold. “This child does not want to honestly repent. You will need to counsel her so that her soul is saved for the Lord. Let’s pray for the girl. Save her soul…” James began.

_You will be saved._

The congregation grew loud, “Save her soul! Release her from her sins and save her from the evils of the unholy world around us.”

Murdoc smirked, “It will be my honor to guide this child to salvation, Oversight,” Murdoc pronounced, playing an ever-obedient follower. The tone made Mac feel sick. This guy was surely a psychopath. All repentance counselors had to be.

_You need to be sent away. I have been unable to get the bad out of you. You are evil, Angus. You are bad, and I hope someday you can be saved._

 

“Thank you, Murdoc. She will learn to follow the path of the Lord,” James said. “I leave her soul to you.” He concluded Leila’s forgiveness ritual. “Lost lamb, return to the flock. We shall let no soul under this roof go unsaved.”

“As God’s proxies we will let her be taught. We will listen to her sinfulness and rewrite her wrongs. The sinners will learn that straying only hurts themselves,” the people replied.

 “Are you going to learn to behave?” Murdoc asked the girl before James could move onto the next sinner.

Leila nodded. “I will, sir. I will learn to follow the path of God.”

Murdoc smirked, and James patted the child’s head condescendingly, shooting Mac a look. “Don’t worry, girl. You will see the light. I’ve saved souls eviler than yours.”

_I’ve known no soul more evil than yours._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. It's been awhile, but I hope you enjoyed this story. Feel free to leave feedback!
> 
> Next chapter: Mac and Jack look for some evidence by using their training in covert ops.


	5. Snooping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac tries to find evidence against his father.

_Be careful what you see, Angus because if you see to much, I can’t save you from the pain you’ll have to face. Curiosity is not in your best interest. Do what I say, and do not question the Lord,_ the words echoed through Mac’s head as he did exactly the opposite of that, having snuck into his dad’s office while James had gone to counsel a church member. Mac knew he had less than an hour, but he would be fast. He hadn’t even told Jack about this little side mission because Mac knew his friend, who usually gladly went along with Mac’s antics, would have warned against acting too quickly. He would have advised that as much as it hurt to say it, they needed to wait it out until they had a better idea of how to best get their hands on the files.

Quickly, Mac got past the, frankly basic, door lock. James didn’t need to keep things locked up too tightly because most of his followers were too brainwashed to even try to get in. Likely, James could leave it unlocked and no one would enter without permission, but James wasn’t that arrogant. He knew he had to have some level of protection. _Angus, you need to understand that getting people to do what they should is best done with the mind, not chains or bars. Imprisoning them makes them rebel but letting them imprison themselves makes them not want to wander. I only use force when absolutely necessary._

The office was surprisingly cluttered for how much of a control freak Oversight was. The room was small and musty, filled with brown, tattered file boxes, a desk set, a bookcase, and faded arm chair in the corner by the window. The smell of coffee and donuts hung in the air and the carpet was soft underneath Mac’s feet. He froze at the sensation. It was the same as it had been when he was the child. He hated the carpet. His dad would make him sit in the left corner, now filled with the boxes, and make him recite verses from “The Travelers’ Map to Heaven,” the book that guided the Heavenly Travelers, which James claimed had been passed down from God through Oversight, the prophet.

Most kids in the church didn’t have one on one time with their parents, shuffled to the nursery to be taken care of communally shortly after birth, but it was different with Mac because he was the prophet’s son. He didn’t know his mother, not after she died, but James made sure everyone knew who Mac’s father was. This had caused other children to be in awe of Mac, but it also caused them to resent him, pushing and taunting him as they played on the playground after lessons. _You think you’re so special? You’re not special. You’re Oversight’s penance. That’s what he said in church today. You were sent to test him, and we all know why. You’re evil. You can’t do anything right._ They’d envied him for getting to know his father, for having such an important father, but Mac knew better. He hated one on one time with James. It was hell.

Sometimes, instead Oversight would make him kneel instead of stand, and he’d spend hours in that position, reciting words from a book he hated, until his knees hurt and started to grow tingly. His mouth would go dry, but he’d remain there, knowing that the punishment would only get worse if he stopped before his dad told him to. He’d be there for hours, praying for the torture to end.

There was too much to look through, so Mac had to strategic. If he were Oversight, where would he put the records of his most ghastly crimes. Mac tried to search his brain, remembering being in that office, less messy then, as a child. He recalled being in that corner, and the rustling of papers he heard. He remembered his dad sipping coffee, and eating donuts that had made Mac’s stomach growl ravenously after not having been fed anything all day. Most prominently, he remembered the weight of James’ body pushing at springs, the sound he knew to be his dad sitting in the old armchair. His dad loved sitting there, preferring to do work there with a small TV table instead of at the desk, not too far from the small desk where his secretary sat when he allowed her in the office. Yes, that was it. If he were James, he would keep the incriminating stuff, close to heart, in one of the boxes closest to that hideous chair.

He began looking through those boxes, finding plenty of horrifying things— books manuscripts, church memos, etc.— but nothing that showed criminal behavior. He dug deeper, finding a small slip of paper, which Mac unfolded. It was a letter, Mac realized, that James had gotten from from Mr. Murphy. _You’ll live with him for a while. He’s good at teaching wayward children to behave._ Mac skimmed the page, the words making him sick at the between the lines meanings of the words. _I’m teaching him to follow his master. He is rebellious, but he will learn to do what he is told. It’s my honor to be his tutor in these lessons. He will be a fine man if I have anything to do with it. Thank you for giving me this privilege, dear Oversight. Thank you for letting me borrow your child._ Borrow probably meant that money had been exchanged, but Mac had no proof, other than knowing that that was what James did with children, let them be traded and bought like Pokémon cards to the creeps in the church’s inner circle.

The letter did not specify criminal behavior, only alluding to the abuse Mac would face under the promise of being cured, but it wasn’t enough. The words were chilling, but they alone couldn’t make sure Oversight never hurt a kid again. Mac snuck the letter into his pocket, dreading its contents but having a compulsion to take it with him. He wanted to read it more closely later when he would have the time to break down over the words and analyze them in a way that he couldn’t help but do but never made him feel any better.

Mac continued searching through the box, finding and temporarily ignoring more letters from Mr. Murphy he found. Mac hated that man, maybe more than his father. His time with Mr. Murphy was the worst of his life. At first the man had been nice, but as lessons commenced, the situation had quickly turned sour. _There’s nothing wrong with love, kiddo. That’s your problem; you don’t let yourself be loved. Let me love you, and I can release the bitterness and pain inside you. I can teach you to love and be loved like a man. Don’t you want that._

Mac’s hands were shaking as he searched through the box. There were too many boxes, too many papers, too many evil secrets to sort through. He was near the bottom when he heard the door slam, starling him and causing him to rip his hand from the box, even though there was no way to hide that he had been snooping. He turned around, sure that his dad had caught him, but it wasn’t James.

“Angus MacGyver, what the hell are you doing in here?” A too-peppy voice asked, and Mac’s blood went cold. What scared him most was that the person who had caught him had not been his father, no it was even worse— Murdoc, whose face held the vacancy of a psychopath and a smile that looked glad for the coming torture.  _Oh shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this. Feel free to leave feedback and tell me what you thought of this!


	6. Punishment to the Antichrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc punishes Mac and makes an unexpected proposal. Mac is inundated by unwelcome memories.

“Angus MacGyver,” Murdoc hissed, looking both satisfied and frustrated, “Oversight has told me a lot about you, and I can’t say much of it has been good. Luckily, I don’t always believe what I’m told.” Murdoc had taken Mac to a small, barely used chapel on the far corner of the compound. It was ornately decorated with statues of Jesus, Angels, and important church members, a large statue of Oversight being placed next to an equally sized Jesus. He was shown being given scrolls of knowledge and the key to the church. The whole building had been a vanity project for James.

 

The other times Mac had been there in his life had never ended well. The chapel was used for more intimate religious ceremonies (aka torture, punishment, and gatherings of the evilest members). _Angus, let me take you to meet Mr. Murphy. He’s waiting in the chapel. We’ll have a little ceremony, and then he’ll take you home with him to Baltimore. He’ll teach you what you need to know: to be resilient, obedient, and an ideal child of God._

“You should know that no one is allowed in here without Oversight’s permission.”

“No one’s allowed in his office either without permission, but like you, Antichrist, I don’t like to play by the rules.” _You’re not my son. You’re my burden. You’re the antichrist. I’ll heal you. Don’t worry about that. Soon, you’ll be worthy to walk the path of the Lord._

“Don’t call me that.”

Murdoc grinned, “Call you what? Antichrist? I quite like the name. Adds character to a person who has to be the most...” he yawned, tapping his hand to his mouth to emphasize the point, “…boring human I’ve ever known.”

“I’m hardly boring.” His life was a shitshow, and his job was an action movie. He was many things but boring was not one them.

“No, you’re right. You’re quite interesting, but you’re too good. Good is BORING. I mean, really, Angus, do you think breaking into a dingy old office is fun? Come on, there’s nothing interesting in there. Your old man is far too sentimental. All those papers show that. Half the junk he keeps is about you. Letters from when you were away, or journals with pages and pages about how you misbehaved. Blah, blah, blah. He even has an unpublished manuscript about you called “The Antichrist.” It’s all very droll. He’s so very obsessed with someone so unremarkable.”

“You seem pretty interested,” Mac quipped.

“I am, but only because that weird little brain of yours. You’d make a fun adversary, and I’ve been hoping for a nemesis. Or an ally. As a little boy I dreamed of two things: having an enemy and having a sidekick.”

“I sure can’t be both.”

“Why not? We can want some of the same things and still hate each other’s guts. There are more colors than black and white. You should know that.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Mac asked, not wanting to indulge Murdoc’s super villain moment.

Murdoc sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to punish you, but that’s just the fun little cherry on top. First, I want to talk business.”

“What do you want?”

“I want James gone,” hearing the name made Mac’s stomach dip. No one referred to Oversight by his first name. It was unheard of. _I am Oversight. I shall answer to no other name. Never call me dad again._

“Why would you want that?”

“Because I’ve always wanted to be a cult leader.”

“I’m sure that would make your mother proud.”

“I stopped caring about making her proud when I killed her with a sledgehammer.” Murdoc’s face remained stoic, and Mac couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. “Guess we both have Mommy issues. Daddy issues too, but that’s another story. Anyway, I want James gone. That’s why I’ve been acting like his good little subservient. I’m not a brainwashed idiot like the rest of those morons.”

“I could tell him what you’re up to,” Mac replied coldly. “I could tell him that his trusted repentance counselor is just an insane con man.”

“You won’t because I know that you’re not here to play nice with daddy dearest. You’re here to get revenge, and if you keep my secret, I’ll keep yours. Plus, you won’t be believed if you tattle on me. Who would believe the antichrist? Tell him a single thing, and I’ll make sure that you hurt more than you’ve ever hurt before. Trust me, I’m good at making people hurt. That’s why I’m the repentance counselor. I don’t press where it hurts. I press where it kills, slowly from the inside out. Or on occasion, outside in.”

“What would you want me to do? Oversight and I aren’t on good terms.”

“I want you to get back in good graces with your father, find a way to take him down, and then you can leave the rest to me.”

“I’m not going to let a _psychopath_ like you revive this _cult._ I want it gone. Taken down completely, and I’ll take down you with it.” It was stupid to reveal his plans to Murdoc, but it wasn’t like Murdoc hadn’t already uncovered them himself.

“Psychopath and the c-word all in one sentence. Angus, you do make my ears turn red with your pathetic attempts at threatening. Silly boy, I know you’re not going to _let_ me revive this cult after you destroy James. That’s why we’re both allies and adversaries. Your little Boy Scout heart won’t let you hand a bunch of lost souls over to evil. That’s where our plans diverge, and you’ll have to learn that evil always wins.” _You’ll learn. I’ll make sure you learn everything I have to teach you._

“I’m not going to report to you. I’m not on your side, and I never will be.”

“You will if you want to send your father to jail.”

“Not if it means him being replaced by you.”

“I’m the lesser of two evils. I’ll keep the corporal punishment, yes, and psychological torture, of course, but I won’t let children be bought for sex.” _Mr. Murphy will want you. He will teach you. He will love you._ “I’m not a monster. Well, maybe I am, but I’m not that kind of monster.”

“I’ll take you down too,” Mac said unflinchingly. He wasn’t going to let people continue to be hurt in the name of God. The Heavenly Travelers couldn’t exist anymore. Mac had to destroy the whole church, not just to save those still caught in its false promises and lies, but also to redeem himself.

Murdoc grinned, that same blood chilling smile. He was pure evil. “That’s what I hoped you’d say, Angus. We will have fun together. You’ll listen, and we’ll play a little game of cat and mouse, and darkness will win. Time to turn off the light” He flipped off the lights, leaving them in the darkness. Mac was shoved into a chair, his hands tied up to the arms. Murdoc, the lunatic he was, began laughing to himself. “Now the good part begins.” He rubbed his hands together, “Punishment time!”

“You going to beat be some more?” Mac asked, knowing he had to take whatever punishment Murdoc gave or else his cover would be blown. That couldn’t happen, not if Mac wanted to take town James MacGyver and the psychopathic Murdoc too.

Murdoc half-walked, half-skipped to the alter, unable to contain his giddiness. He pulled down the projector screen. “I’m not going to _beat_ you, Antichrist. Physical torture is so passé. I’m more refined that that. You’ll learn that.”

“I can’t believe you don’t resort to violence.”

“Violence is unavoidable, but I’m a mixed methods kind of guy.”

“What are you going to do? Make me watch a movie?”

“Got it in one,” Murdoc said dryly. “Good job, buddy. Want to guess what we’re watching? It’s a sad film.”

 “Going to make me watch Bambi’s mom die on a loop? I really hated that movie as a kid.” _Being a smartass will get you nowhere. Being a kiss ass will get you everywhere._

 _“_ I bet. I can imagine it, little Angus so sensitive about mommy dying, huh? But no, we’re not watching just any movie. I had a few options lined up, but for today’s feature, I’m going to show you Brian Murphy’s greatest hits costarring _his favorite little boy._ ” Mac blanched. He’d gladly take a few hits from his dad’s favorite whip over that. Murdoc giggled to himself, clearly enlivened by his evil genius. _You’re my favorite little boy, Angus. I’ve never known one as smart and beautiful as you. You’re so good, so good._

Mac didn’t even know there had been video, and where did Murdoc even get that tape on such short notice? Mac wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Murdoc had a horrific tendency to be two steps ahead, almost like he had known this was going to happen. A weird, terrifying, warped man, Murdoc almost made James look normal.

If anyone knew more about the cult than James, it would be Murdoc. Mac supposed that’s what Murdoc was striving for, evil bastard. He wanted to be James successor and had the potential to unleash even worse suffering if he wanted to. For Murdoc, it was all a game while for James it was a power trip. James would do what he needed to stay in power while Murdoc would do what made him feel challenged, whatever his shrunken, fickle heart desired. Mac couldn’t decide which was worse.

“You’ll have to tape my eyes open if you want me to look at that.” Mac wasn’t sure why he said, maybe he couldn’t help that little bit of defiance. Or maybe he couldn’t help running headfirst into trouble. Danger called to him. He liked to put himself in the middle of it, even when he knew it was stupid.

Murdoc shrugged, unconcerned. “You can close your eyes all you want, but you’ll still hear the sound. That will be enough to send you back to the good old days, to break you just a little bit. I don’t need much. I’m not greedy.” Mac didn’t believe that. Murdoc was gluttonous for torturing others. He couldn’t get enough. The more pain he inflicted, the better. “Besides, I know you won’t look away. You’re too stubborn. You don’t want your past to control you. You want to act like you’re over, that you’re fine. So, you’ll look, and you’ll pretend that it doesn’t kill you. But when you’re alone tonight, you’ll be stuck with all those memories looping in your head. You won’t be able to stop thinking about them, no matter how hard you try to go to sleep. You’ll be as helpless and hurt as you were as a kid, and you’ll realize you never stopped being that kid.” Murdoc patted himself on the back. “Much better than _Bambi_ , isn’t it?”

Then, the room brightened as the film started, images flashing on the screen, starting off so innocently, and Mac wasn’t sure whether his heart would quicken or stop, but he knew Murdoc was right. He’d watch it all, barely letting himself blink. He’d watch and listen, letting the horrors of the past reignite feelings he’d pushed into an empty corner in the back of his head. There was a part of him that couldn’t shut his eyes, that felt he deserved the punishment, the part of him that thought this was his penance for being born a sinner. Evil, that’s what they had called him, and he’d yet to convince himself that evil wasn’t what he was.

* * *

 

By the time Murdoc was done playing the tape, Mac was floaty, feeling separate from his body. His mind needed to escape himself for just a while. The world was hazy, the late night had taken the clarity of day. He was tired and emotionally drained, and his back still hurt from his last punishment. His mind was wandering, and he couldn’t make sense of his surroundings.

Only instinct kept his feet moving, leading him to where he needed to go. Robotically, he walked back to where he knew Jack would be, jack, who had left him dozens of messages on his phone that Mac didn’t have the brain power to read but knew were probably frantic.

Jack had probably looked everywhere for Mac, but the chapel was too hidden for someone who wasn’t well acquainted with the cult’s compound. Mac was surprised that Jack hadn’t called Riley to track him. Although, Mac had warned he would be a while and that Jack shouldn’t worry. Of course, Jack worried even when Mac told him not to. Especially when Mac told him not to.

Mac needed to get back to Jack. He couldn’t figure out much in his blurry headspace, but he knew that.

If Mac saw any people on his way back, he didn’t notice, too lost in his own head to remember much of his surroundings.

Mac went into his cabin, creeping into his room to find Jack asleep in the armchair, looking like he had fallen asleep while waiting up. Guilt twisted in Mac’s stomach. He hated that he had made Jack worry. _It’s all your fault. Everything is your fault, Angus._ The small tiffany lamp next to the chair was still lit, and Mac couldn’t stand to turn it off.

He didn’t want the darkness, not tonight. He’d have too many nightmares, and his ungrounded brain would meld the dream world and the waking world in a feverish concoction, making Mac unable to determine the past from present, truth from imagination, abuse from duty. To Mac, they’d once been so hard to distinguish from each other, his mind so unclear from years of being gaslit and brainwashed, and now, the uncertainty had returned, dim but brightening the more he thought about the images he had seen. He fought logic, and his childhood instinct to blame himself, to rationalize what was happening to him.

Too exhausted to handle so many thoughts, Mac knew he needed sleep. He tiptoed to his bed as not to wake his friend, not that he could tell if he was loud or not with the fuzziness in his ears.

He crawled into his small bed, nearly forgetting to take off his shows, let alone to change his clothes. He bundled himself in blankets, not sure whether he was hot or cold but craving the heaviness of the blankets to ground his levitating mind.

Before sleep, he had one last thing to do. With hands that didn’t feel like his, Mac pulled out the letter he had stashed in his pocket from Oversight’s office. When his brain was like this, it was hard to make sense of the words, but he couldn’t help but try. He couldn’t sleep until he looked at them, read them in the privacy of his own bed, Jack snoring nearby, his safety blanket and protector. He squinted to see the squiggly script in the darkness, the light of the lamp not reaching the bed, eys straining to make out the letters. He recognized the handwriting, and the letters, the curves and loops made him sick like he was on a rollercoaster. Even with his mind unable to concentrate properly, he could read enough bring another surge of the terror he had felt as a kid, the confusion, the heartache. The movies and the letter creating a cloying potion of distress in him.

He didn’t notice the tears welling in his eyes, couldn’t feel them trickling down his face, but they poured down steadily. He sobbed, muffling the sound with his pillowcase until he fell asleep. He had done that a lot as a child too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! This chapter got pretty dark, and it won't get any better. Next chapter is going to be taking a deeper dive into Mac's past and go more into some flashbacks. I hope you liked this chapter. If you have any thoughts, please leave some comments. Also, apologies if I ruined Bambi for anyone. Have a great day, lovely people (or night or whatever it is where you are!)


	7. Flashbacks of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac deals with flashbacks from the past and Jack helps him through.

Mac woke to a dark room, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. His heart raced as he looked in the dark to find something comforting in the blackness. He caught sight of Jack, and finally, he remembered where he was, but it was of little comfort knowing he was back in the place that had been the cause of the worst moments of his life. He remembered Murdoc’s punishment, and sleepiness made him delirious, the past becoming an inescapable entombment.

He noticed Jack was in bed, no longer in the illuminated armchair. Mac was relieved that Jack had gotten to his bed. He had felt terrible for making him stay up in the first place. _You’re a terrible person. An awful friend, son, and follower. You’ve ruined my life and everyone’s life you’ve touched._

With bleary eyes, he checked his phone, seeing that it was 4 am, and Mac needed to try to get back to sleep but there was no way he would be able to, not with the headache beginning to form in his head, the tense, distant headache that always meant undesired memories were surfacing. The bitter mixed with the sweet, as memories of that time often did.

Long, black hair, dark eyes, and pale skin flittered into his mind as he remembered May, who had been his friend and first love. She smelled hazelnut and cinnamon, and her smile was small and sweet. Her eyes would crinkle as she laughed, and for the longest time, every time he thought of brightness, he thought of her.

 _Son, only spend time with the people I tell you to spend time with. Angus, you’ve been very bad._ It was just a kiss. _I told you to stay away from May, and now, you both must be punished._ They’d both been sent away, and Mac had never asked where she’d gone or what they had done to her, but he knew, based on what he’d gone through, that it couldn’t have been good. Their friendship wasn’t the same when Mr. Murphy was done with Mac. Nothing in Mac’s life could be. _Let’s just pretend we were never apart,_ May had said, but the rift had come between them anyway. _That May girl is trouble. I’ve told you that a hundred times, but I think she might be starting to see the light. I’ll get you both back on the path of righteousness._

 _Don’t be scared the dark,_ Mr. Murphy had said. _No one will hurt you as long as I’m here. I know your father can be hard on you._ Mac recalled hands caressing him, fingertips trailing down his body. _But I won’t be so harsh. I’ll love you in the way he never did. I’ll take care of you in the way kids deserve._ Mac learned then that promises couldn’t be trusted, not from anyone, he had thought. It took him years to realize that there were people in the world who would intentionally hurt him. Not everyone was a monster. _I’m not a monster for being like this. I’m human, that’s all. Is what we do so wrong?_

Feeling sick, Mac reached over the side of his bed, pulling out a flashlight, and covering himself with his covers like a kid reading a book with a flashlight while they were supposed to be asleep. Mac hadn’t been brave enough to try those childish shenanigans as a kid. James valued obedience beyond anything, and Mac learned young disobedience meant pain, and pain was James’ way of showing love. _I hurt you because I love you._

It wasn’t right, Mac knew that now, but for so many years, he’d thought that he was the problem, that he hadn’t been good enough to be treated with love and decency.

 _Ladies and gentlemen, Angus has been very bad. For his punishment, he will stand out in the sun from now until sunset, reciting the commandments our Lord has given us. You may not interfere in any way with his punishment. Do not give him food or water. Do not speak to him. Do not give him a hat or an umbrella. Leave him completely alone. We must let him endure his punishment alone, so he learns to not follow the tempting but wayward paths in life._ He’d been 11 at the time, and it had been 90 degrees and noon when the punishment was given. He stood there, face red from heat and humiliation as he recited the words as instructed. By the end of the day, his skin throbbed, blistered and deep pink from going outside during the sunniest hours unprotected. The sun burn—sun poisoning— had been so bad that it made him sick. James had not cared. _It’s just a sunburn. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. I did this for your benefit._

There was a reason why Mac preferred the winter, preferably in somewhere cold and snowy. Ironically, he had wound up in sunny California.

The headache intensified. _It will hurt at first, but then you’ll like it. Relax, and it won’t be that bad._ He shivered, Mr. Murphy’s voice filling his ears with breathy whispers. He was thrust back into the memory, so deeply that he didn’t notice he had been sobbing until a light flipped on and Jack was there, right next to his bed, pulling him out of his blanket cocoon.

“Mac, buddy, what’s wrong?” Jack’s voice was tender.

“It’s too dark. It’s all too dark.” Jack looked confused but flipped on another lamp. “No, in my brain, Jack. I can’t stop thinking about what Oversight did to me, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Mac shook his head. “Not really, but sometimes holding onto all these memories is too much.”

“We need to get you out of here, Mac.”

“No, we’re not going anywhere.”

“You can’t take much more of this. I’m worried about the damage this is going to do to you if we stay here. You need to get out of here and into therapy.”

“Don’t you see?” he said bitterly. He dropped his voice to a whisper, “There is no getting out of here. If I don’t take this fucking cult down, I can never have peace. I need to destroy it, so I don’t have to keep living in terror that someday it’ll destroy me.”

Jack pulled Mac toward him, letting blond hair fall over his shoulder and blue eyes wet his shirt. “Okay, but we can leave any time. We’ll still take this place down, but we’ll just have to find another way.”

“I already have a way,” Mac said, voice steely.

“Does that have anything to do with why you came back so late?”

Mac nodded, “I found someone else who wants to take Oversight down.” He then explained his encounter with Murdoc in excruciating detail.

Jack looked angrier than Mac had ever seen him. “After I kill your dad, I’m going to kill that creep.” Mac yawned, and Jack looked at the time, “We’ll plan more tomorrow, but for now, we need to get some sleep. We both were up late.” Jack gave Mac’s shoulder a squeeze and ruffled his hair. He tucked the blankets around Mac and flipped off the overhead light.

Jack’s fingers reached for the lamp, but Mac said, “Wait.”

“What is it kid?”

His voice was soft and embarrassed, “Could you keep the light on?”

Jack nodded, immediately understanding. “Sure thing, Hoss.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I love you all and hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for reading. Please feel free to comment.


	8. Artifacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac meets with the team to figure some stuff out.

Mac and Jack had wandered from the compound to get breakfast with the team. They had driven about an hour away so that they wouldn’t risk being heard by anyone with connections to the cult. Mac had been relieved to see the team there, feeling safer than he had since the operation had started. He’d missed them. Jack had been great helping him with nightmares and the terror he constantly seemed to feel, but having the team altogether again, made him feel like he’d come home.

While they weren’t prisoners on the cult’s compound and members would leave to earn money and go on little trips into the real world, engagement with the outside world was discouraged; nevertheless, Jack knew Mac needed a break, and if he was honest with himself, Jack needed a break too. Living with the Heavenly Travelers was hell. He hated watching what being there was doing to Mac, and seeing all those people, who were victims in the cult’s misdoings, suffer was dreadful, especially the children. Jack couldn’t help but imagine Mac as a child, blonde and bubbly until he was worn down by abuse and neglect. The one person who had showed Mac love had died, leaving Mac essentially an orphan because James sure wasn’t a father.

Jack had mostly been left alone by the cult and its members; they didn’t want to scare away the newcomer, but Mac had already been tortured in ways Jack couldn’t stomach to think of, and that wasn’t even including the past trauma that kept being brought up. Jack hated to think of all the old wounds that were being broken back open each day they were there.

“How are you guys doing?” Matty asked once the food had arrived, concerned at how tired her boys, Mac especially, looked. More than just tired, they looked haunted, and given how much bad stuff they dealt with on a daily basis, it took a lot to make anyone on the team look so defeated and terrified.

“We’re okay,” Mac said before Jack could state otherwise. “We haven’t gotten as much information as we need yet. Oversight is doing awful things, I know it. But I can’t prove it. We’ll get there. I just have to figure out where my dad would put the things that were most important to him.” _I don’t know why you think you’re important. You’re not. God’s journey is the only thing that should matter. Listen to me, Angus. I will make you know the goodness of Jesus. You will not be like your mother. She died because she strayed too far. She tried to take you from the Lord. She sinned against the prophet and God. You will not do the same._

Jack shot Mac a look. “We’re not okay. We’re in over our heads. If we could at least get people willing to come forward about the abuse then we’d have enough to bring James down, but we don’t have that. All these people are so brainwashed. If James tells them to, they’ll beat their fellow travelers in the name of the Lord. It’s sick. I haven’t even witnessed the worst of it, just public humiliation, but if we end the operation now, I’m worried that the cult will be back to its normal nefarious ways within months because we’ve connected very little solidly to James. _Fuck._  We need to pluck this by the root, or we’ll have another Waco on our hands or worse.”

“That’s why we need to keep digging. We can’t afford to mess this up,” Mac said with a stubbornness in his voice.

Riley put a hand on his arm, “But if you can’t do it, we’ll understand. There are a million ways to take down a cult, and you don’t have to be a part of it. It has to be awful to be back there after all these years.” Her touch was soft, reminding Mac of his mother, who had always been gentle. Her blonde curls would bounce as she threw her head back and laughed. He missed her so much, even though he barely remembered her. _I love you, Angus,_ he remembered her saying.

“Riles is right, Mac,” Bozer said, worried about his friend. He knew Mac back when he was a traumatized kid. Of course, Bozer didn’t know the extent of it, but he could tell very bad things had happened to Mac.

“I know, but this is something I need to do. He’s the reason my mother is dead.” He tried to remember his last memory of his mother, but only one stuck out in the small pool of memories he had of her. _What’s that, Martha?_ Mac had remembered saying as he pointed to a beautiful wooden box. He called her by her first name because he wasn’t supposed to know who his mother was, but looking back, it was obvious that she had been his mother because of how tenderly she had treated him, more tenderly than she did with the other kids. _It’s my jewelry box, honey,_ she had answered. _We’ll be okay. Your father won’t hurt you once I’m done with him._

Mac knew who his father was, even then, a knowledge other kids in the cult didn’t get. He was set apart by this distinction. _You’re different than other children, son. Be a good different, not the antichrist. I don’t want a sinner for a son._

Jack sighed, “And we have that creepy Murdoc dude on our side now. He’s in the inner circle. He should be able to give us something.”

 _I keep all my most important possessions here. It needs to be protected. It has important things in it. Things that will keep us safe._ Mac’s mom had shown him a small key in her hand, letting him feel the cool silver. _This will save us, sweetheart. It will make sure Daddy doesn’t hurt us again. I promise. I’ll protect you._ She had then put the key in the drawer at the bottom of the jewelry box, slipping it under the velvet lining.

And then it struck Mac where he needed to look.

“Jack!” he exclaimed. “I don’t think we’ll need Murdoc after all. We have something that freak doesn’t.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked, looking excited at the prospect. Neither of them wanted to be anywhere near Murdoc more than they had to be.

“There was one person before who wanted to take Oversight down. She wound up dead.”

“And that person is?” Matty asked, no nonsense voice intact.

“My mother. I didn’t realize it at the time, but based on snippets I remember about her and ones with Oversight talking about her, I think she was gathering intel to take down the cult before she died, and I think I know where she kept the information.”

“Where?”

“I need to find her jewelry box.” Mac smiled, “I think there’s a key in there that could unlock all the secrets Oversight has been keeping. That box could be the thing that makes sure Oversight never hurts a child again.”

“What’s in there?” _This box contains the most precious gift I can give you._

“Freedom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! I had some trouble with this, but I finally got something out of it. thanks for the patience. Hope you liked it! Feel free to leave feedback, lovely people!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac finds answers.

“Jack, I need you to keep watch. If Oversight catches us, there will be no getting this box back. But who knows if it’s even still here? I hid it when I was seven and he was starting to get rid of my mom’s stuff, so I buried it. I was going through a hidden treasure phase. I made a little map and all. X marked the spot. The map is gone, but my memory remains.”

“You hid it in the forest?” Jack asked skeptically as they entered a wooded area.  

“It’s not a forest. It’s a patch of land around the perimeter with a few trees. Secluded but not secluded enough that I couldn’t find my way back.”

“You sure you remember where it is? It’s been a long time, Mac.”

Mac pointed straight ahead. “I’m pretty sure it’s by that funky looking tree.”

“You better be right. We don’t have the time or man-power to dig up eight million holes.”

Mac replied, “Have a little faith, Jack.” _Have a little faith, Angus,_ Mac thought and shuddered at the thought of being his father. “Sorry, that sounded like something Oversight would say.”

“Yeah, but when you say it, you’re not being an asshole.”

Mac sighed. “He was being an asshole, and I’m just being a bad son.”

“You are a good son. You buried your mother’s prized possession, and you’re here trying to finish her work. Just because James can’t appreciate you, doesn’t mean nothing. Don’t let him guilt you into feeling bad.”

“I won’t. Once I take him down, I can forget all about him.” Jack wanted to argue that repressing James some more wasn’t healthy, but they could have that conversation another time. For now, they had to work on the task at hand: taking the beast to jail.

* * *

 

It took a surprising amount of digging to uncover young Mac’s hole, “Dude, what kind of seven-year-old digs this deep down to bury something?”

“The kind who 1. Liked digging, and 2. The kind who had already learned to be very careful. I read enough books to know better than a shallow little hole, and hopefully that will benefit us.” Jack thrust his shovel down one more time, and heard it clank against something hard.

“Please, don’t let that be another rock.” Mac crouched down and began carefully removing dirt with his bare hands.

“Jack, it’s here. Holy— it’s here!” They both got on their knees and began pushing aside the dirt with their fingers to do the least amount of damage to the box as possible. Finally, Mac pulled it out, wiping his hands and the box on his shirt to clean them.

“Jack, it’s so beautiful.” It wasn’t. It was a small, dingy box that had been underground for two decades, but it was Mac’s mother’s and that made it wordlessly special. With care, Mac opened the bottom drawer. It was a bit sticky and he had to wiggle it open, but finally, it was opened. He popped up the purple velvet liner and slipped out a key. “It’s here. It’s actually here!” Mac cried out, overjoyed.

“That’s great, Mac, but we still have no idea what this key goes.”

“I know exactly where we need to go. To the chapel.”

“You mean the chapel of terrors?”

Mac nodded. “Mom’s office was attached to it. When she died, Oversight didn’t touch it.”

“He doesn’t seem the sentimental type.”

“He’s not but playing the grieving husband by keeping her office intact would make people sympathetic to him. He loves looking like the victim.”

“Twenty years is a long time to play grieving husband. Surely, he’s changed it by now.”

Mac shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not like he needs that space for anything. It’s just a little corner of the chapel that wasn’t used for anything and my mom decided to make it her own.”

“Let’s check it out.”

“It can’t hurt to look.”

* * *

 

When they got to the chapel, Mac hurried to the back corner, pushing his way through the small door the led to his mom’s old office. He swung the door open, expecting answers but was dismayed to see the furniture replaced by old boxes. Worst of all, sitting in a fold out chair that hadn’t been used since 2012 sat Murdoc, grinning like a hyena.

“You’ve finally figured it out,” he said with a smirk.

Jack pushed his way into the office to stand in front of Mac. “What are you doing here, creep?”

“I’m here to help.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Mac returned.

“Oh, Angus, you wound me. I’ve only ever wanted to help you.”

“And yourself,” Jack cut in. “We know who you value most of all.”

“If we all benefit, why must we split hairs about motives. It’s silly if you ask me.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, clearly trying to resist the urge to punch Murdoc. “Good thing no one asked you.”

“Why are you here?” Mac asked.

Murdoc hopped up from his chair. He stepped on a creaky floorboard, rocking back and forth on it.

“Get to it, Psycho,” Jack said impatiently.

But before Murdoc could do anything, Mac pushed him aside and pulled up the loose floorboards to reveal what looked to be a safe. With some ardor, Mac pulled it out. His mom had really wedged it in there, and it was heavy.

“You knew about this, and you didn’t do something with it sooner?” Mac asked, feeling like he was about to be duped.

 “I need you to get rid of this pesky lock.” He shrugged nonchalantly, “I could have picked it myself, but I wanted to be a team player. Let you have your moment. Besides, this model requires both a key and a code, which is silly if you ask me.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Mac said dryly.

Murdoc feigned hurt, “Me? Kind? You really know how to hurt my feelings, Angus.”

Jack turned to Mac while holding Murdoc back, “Do you know the code?”

Mac nodded, “I think I do.”

“I already tried your birthday,” Murdoc piped up.

“But that wasn’t the day I was actually born,” Mac countered. “In the cult, we consider our birthday the day we are christened. Mom would have used the day I was actually born.”

Murdoc rolled his eyes. “I know that, and I also know that kids get christened a month after they are born. That’s the way James has always done it.”

Mac smiled. “I was born premature. I didn’t even get out of the hospital until two months after I was born.”

With finesse, he opened the safe, using both the code and the key. The second he opened it, he could see that they’d hit the jackpot. Just a skim of the contents were enough for him to know that his mother had come through. She had been ready to take down the cult, and now, he had all he needed to pull the trigger. “It’s over,” Mac told Jack. “This fucking cult is over.”

Mac was startled by footsteps behind him. “Oh, yeah?” Oversight asked. “I don’t think it is.” Mac's heart dropped.  _Kid, I'll make you wish you were never born._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Sorry to leave it like that, but I couldn't make the ending too anticlimactic could I? hope you liked it. Feel free to comment if you wish,


	10. Takedown the Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final showdown

The dark voice echoed through Mac’s head, making him cringe, “Oh, yeah,” he heard Oversight say from behind him as he held the evidence of James MacGyver’s sins.  “I don’t think so.” Mac’s first instinct was to be terrified upon hearing the voice of the man who had made his life hell, but he knew he needed to keep a level head. He couldn’t freeze up and let James get his way. Mac was going to win this final battle, no matter what it took, and he would give his dad a piece of his mind, let him know all the damage he’d done.

Mac turned, to see Oversight holding a gun.  Mac looked over to Jack, and Jack gave him a small nod that said, “I can take care of this, don’t worry.” So, Mac proceeded cautiously, giving time to figure out what would be the most tactical way to take down James. They’d handled worse opponents.

For once, Mac didn’t feel scared about his father’s threats. He wasn’t going to cower in front of James. Not anymore. He wasn’t a little kid, and he refused to be helpless like he once had been.  He couldn’t back down if he wanted to save the people of the cult from James’ evil. “You won’t use that on me,” Mac said firmly, though he wasn’t so sure. James was willing to do anything to make sure he maintained his power, and Mac had seen that time and time again throughout his life. That was why he knew he had to end this here and now.

James’ face remained stoic, not seeming to care about Mac’s increasingly emotional state. “Wouldn’t I? You’re a traitor and a sinner. Why wouldn’t I want you out of my way. You’ve only ever been a problem. I had to send you away to try to make you worth something, but even then, you ended up a failure.”

“You never wanted to help me.” _I’m just trying to help you, Angus. I want to make you a better child of the Lord. Let me help you, son. Let me show you the light so that you don’t have to spend the rest of your life in the darkness._

“Of course, I did. I wanted to save your soul. Now, hand those documents over to me, son. Don’t keep on disappointing me.

“You ruined me! You abused me, and you told me the beatings and humiliations were because you loved me and wanted me to be better, but I know that’s not so. I know that you’re just a bastard who like victimizing people and make them his pawns.”

“I’m guiding you to the Lord,” James said with a smirk.

“No, stop it! Shut up!” Mac said, unable to back down from his father anymore. “My childhood was horrific, and no God would want that. You use God as an excuse, but you’re not stupid or brainwashed. You know better.” Mac felt a fresh batch of rage consume him.  “You know what Mr. Murphy did to me. He abused me in a way I was too young to understand. He made me think I was being shown love, and what he did made me hate myself. I felt dirty, and worthless, and unsafe. No child should feel that way,” Mac screamed, and his eyes became glassy. “And I’m not going to let you do it to anyone else, so shoot me. If that’s what you think will get yourself out of this, do it, but you don’t get to hurt people. You don’t get to sell children off the perverts and criminals. You don’t get to make me feel bad anymore.” Very quietly, Mac added in a choked voice, “I don’t want to feel bad anymore.”

“Don’t talk to me that way, I’m your father.” The statement filled Mac with a wave of emotions. James had never been a father to him, and Mac was going to be sure he knew that. He hadn’t even let Mac call him dad! To Mac, James had always just been Oversight, a cruel, manipulative bastard. Mac wasn’t going to let that man have the title of father anymore. He didn’t deserve it, and he never would. Mac was done taking all the responsibility of the bad things that had happened to him upon himself. _It’s all your fault._ His trauma hadn’t been his fault, and finally, that felt very clear.

“You’re not my father. Fathers don’t put their kids through what you put me through. Fathers protect their kids. They don’t put their own need for power first. They don’t let a mob murder their kid’s mother. You’re not even a religious leader. James MacGyver, you’re an evil son of a bitch.” Saying his father’s name was foreign, and it scared Mac just to hear it rolling from his tongue, instinctually feeling as though he was going to get in trouble for using it.

A malicious glint filled James’ eyes. “You’ve always been a no good whore,” James spat at Mac, and before he could think better of it, Jack stepped in, pushing the weapon out of James’ hands and pinning him to the floor. Pulling zip ties out of his pocket, Mac put James’ hands behind his back and then did the same to Murdoc.

He looked over to Jack with a small smile, “Exfil is on the way. They’ll be out of our hands too.”

Murdoc didn’t stop smiling, a stupid grin remaining on his face even though he was going to jail, “That’s what you think, Boy Scout, but I swear you haven’t seen the last of me.

Mac just rolled his eyes, not wanting to indulge Murdoc’s games. “You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, Murdoc.”

Jack pulled Mac in for a hug as they waited for exfil, rubbing his arms consolingly. “You okay, buddy?”

Mac shook his head, crumbling to the ground, legs shaky from the confrontation he’d just had. He felt sick, like he was about to throw up. _No good whore. I hate you. I’ve always hated you. You’re the worst son a father could ask for. You’re evil. You’re guilty. You’re bad._ He was feeling hopelessly overwhelmed by the memories of what had happened to him and all the things he’d long tried to push out of his head. They’d be there, festering for a long time after he went home. “No, but I will be with a little time and a lot of therapy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this final chapter. Feel free to leave feedback. Love you all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first of two AU's I've started writing. I have the second started (I actually started that before this one), but I'm pretty far into it and haven't really gotten to the plot yet, so I'm not sure how long it will be so it may take awhile to finish. We shall see. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this story. Cults fascinate me, so I thought this idea would be cool. Thanks for reading xxx.


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